She looked at her phone: it was ten fifteen. The offices at the college would be open by now. Without hesitating, she called the direct line for Don Jarvis. She’d made her decision the night before; she knew it was the right one.
“Don?” she asked when he picked up. “Is this a good time to talk?”
She asked him to withdraw her name from the list of tenure candidates. “I’m going to stay on Martha’s Vineyard and take care of my grandmother.” She didn’t add that, after her cast was off, she also planned to run on the beach at low tide every day.
He didn’t say he had no idea she had a grandmother there, or anywhere, for that matter.
“But with classes starting in a few weeks,” Maddie continued, “I won’t put you in a tough position. I can teach the semester remotely if you want. We did it during Covid, and it worked fine. If you haven’t found my replacement by spring semester, I’ll do it again. After that, we’ll see. Okay?”
Don said he was disappointed.
She tried to end on a happy note by saying that with only one candidate left, he’d now save time filling the tenure post. And that Manchino would be delighted.
“Maybe we’ll hold off a while,” Don said. “Until we’re sure he’s the right fit. In the meantime, another candidate might come along. Or perhaps you’ll have a change of heart.”
So he wanted to leave the option open for her. It wasn’t the right time to tell him that her mind was made up, or that she wasn’t going to write the article she’d sort of outlined. She hoped to turn over her research to one of her students who could bring it to fruition, because Maddie believed the message of journalistic integrity was important. She also didn’t tell Professor Jarvis that now that she knew her Indigenous roots, maybe she’d revisit her interest in archaeology. Joe had said the Wampanoags had been on the Vineyard for more than ten thousand years: she’d love to work with the tribe to study their—her—cultural history and maybe help them find ways to enhance their education efforts.
But Don Jarvis didn’t need to know any of that. She hoped he’d come to know that, though she appreciated her years at Green Hills, Maddie was resolved. Happy and resolved. In a place where she belonged.
* * *
Five days later, Rex arrived at the cabin just before sunset. Maddie had told her grandmother that he was going to take them for a drive. While waiting for her to finish getting ready, Maddie stood by the front door and looked into Rex’s eyes.
“Will you ever tell me how you got mixed up in this? I don’t want to ask my grandmother. She might still be a spitfire, but I don’t want to bring up something that might upset her.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a long story, Maddie. Like I told you, I’ve known Nancy almost my whole life.”
“A lot of people have. But I doubt that most of them would have gone along with this.”
He smiled. “Touché. But I don’t suppose a lot of people would have had a father who, for many years, loved a woman who wasn’t his wife. A man who once asked his son to look after the woman if he died before she did. Which is all I’m going to say.”
Maddie started to form the word “What?”
But Rex simply smiled again.
And Maddie knew she did not need to know more. Rex Winsted had looked after her grandmother, that was clear enough. He was, after all, one of the good guys. And they all were good people. Imagine that. Her intuition, she supposed, was like many things in life: sometimes it worked well, sometimes it didn’t. From now on, she vowed to pay attention to it but not let it hold her back from allowing good people to love her.
Then Grandma came out of the bedroom.
“I don’t need to go for a drive,” she grumbled.
“You’ll like this one, Nancy,” Rex said as he guided Nancy to the door. “It’s a perfect evening to check out the sunset at Menemsha.”
“I’ve seen that damn sunset nearly every day for almost ninety years.”
“And what year did you grow tired of looking at it?” Rex asked as the three of them walked outside toward his pickup.
Nancy snarled. “You always were a bratty kid, Rex Winsted.”
He laughed and helped her, and then Maddie, into his truck. They fit comfortably; no one needed to ride in the back.
As they approached Basin Road, he reminded Nancy that they wouldn’t stop at the cottage because the restoration couldn’t start until the insurance claim was settled.
Then, as they had planned, Maddie said, “Rex, I’m sorry, but I rushed to leave the cabin. When we get to the restrooms, would you mind stopping?”
“No problem,” he replied.
“Maybe I should go, too,” her grandmother said.
